The Gel Wars
by galindaby
Summary: Kurt's countless battles with the evil that is Blaine Anderson's hair gel... See how it all began and how it may have ended.
1. Chapter 1

_So, since Fauxfire101 insisted I write a series of oneshots about Kurt's battle with the evil that is Blaine's hair gel, here it is ;) This is just an introduction, so look forward to more of a story line later on xD I'm so going to have the time of my life writing this, so thanks a lot for the prompt :D_

**The Gel Wars**

**How It All Began**

My name is Kurt Hummel. Recently, I've been able to call Blaine Anderson my boyfriend. Yup, you've heard right, _the _Blaine Anderson. Even more recently, I declared war on his hair gel.

In the beginning of our relationship it didn't really bother me all that much. I even thought it charming and adorable. It only really started to annoy me when we got to a point where our kisses were more than just sweet and gentle.

As a self-proclaimed baby penguin, the rate at which we progressed in that area surprised me. Though it probably surprised Blaine more (he actually pulled away and fell from the couch in shock the first time I started to be a bit bolder while kissing him. I never heard him complain about the fact that he accidentally took me down with him and I just kept going where we had stopped, though).

Maybe that was due to the fact that I spent a few precious months of my life pining over him while he went off and serenaded another guy, kissed my best friend, accused me of being like Karofsky and last but not least told me to my face that I wasn't sexy (as if I needed to be reminded of that).

See, I had a lot of pent-up frustration to run on. And finally being able to kiss the man of my dreams whenever I pleased to do so (if it wasn't in McKinley. I wanted to keep my head, after all) didn't help calming down my teenage hormones (yes, I posses some of those, thank you very much).

To get back to the point: As our kissing became more passionate, the urge to run my fingers through Blaine's hair became more urgent. Like, by the second. Only problem was that I'd probably break them if I tried what with all the product that's in those heavenly curls (and I only happened to know they were this deliciously curly thanks to Wes and his blackmailing material. Which consisted – among other things – of baby photos of almost all the Warblers. I think I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek after hugging him in thanks – was that before or after I threatened to decapitate his gavel if he ever dared to show my baby pictures to anyone? Oh, well...).

At first, I tried to be subtle. You know, play with the hair at the nape of his neck – where it didn't stick completely to his head – to hopefully get the point across. Either he didn't get the meaning or he didn't want to get it, but the gel stayed where it was – which was, to my great dismay, in his hair.

So I tried to be more obvious. I started by carefully asking him why he used so much gel all the time. He just shrugged his shoulders and didn't even bother to answer me in words. When I told him that so much product couldn't possibly be good for his hair he just shot me a disbelieving look (okay, I admit it, I'm sort of addicted to hair spray myself...) and continued whatever he was doing.

Since simply asking didn't work, I attacked at another front. I asked him if he couldn't let me see it without the gel for once. With puppy dog eyes and pout and everything. I think I even shed a few tears (hey, I _really _wanted to see how those cute curls would look on him now that he definitely wasn't a five-year-old any more).

As you may guess, none of it worked. At all. Usually the pout and the eyes would get me almost everything I wanted (I never had to use them much since we usually didn't have problems finding something to do we both actually wanted to do and I'd never use him to buy me things or something. Every now and then I applied their effect on him when he tried to get me to eat something almost dripping with grease because 'it was fun'. Personally, I don't see what's funny in a heart attack or clogged arteries).

However, this time was different. I had no idea why, but Blaine obviously hated his curls and had declared war on them as much as I had declared war on that stupid gel. And it seemed none of us was willing to back down in that matter.

It was a few weeks after I first brought it up (I had avoided the topic ever since as Blaine seemed to develop a great fascination with his homework whenever I even said the word 'gel'), when I finally got to see those gorgeous curls for the first time – even though it was an accident.

As usual, Blaine's parents were out of town (probably out of state, too) and he had invited me to come over (no, not what you think, you pervs! We were still far from going down _that _road, but my Dad seemed to have a sixth sense all of a sudden. He always found a reason to barge in my room whenever we did so much as look as each other for more than five seconds).

After ringing at least three times without getting any response whatsoever, I decided to try my luck. Blaine had told me where his parents kept their spare key (underneath the doormat, how very original). I let myself into the house and returned the key to its original place. I called for Blaine but once again received no answer.

Shrugging my shoulders I decided that the best course of action would be to just go up to his room and look for him there. Maybe he was listening to his iPod and didn't hear me.

The moment I entered his bedroom, the door to the bathroom also opened. We both froze and shock and all I could do was stare helplessly at my boyfriend – who wore nothing but a towel. A towel that hung dangerously low on his hips, at that.

My eyes came to rest on his chest – a few droplets of water still clung to the skin there, inevitably igniting a desire to lick them off I could hardly suppress – before they finally stayed on the wet mop of curls that rested on his head.

They were beautiful. Like, really beautiful. The kind of curls everyone who didn't have them wanted and everyone who was actually lucky enough to have them wanted to get rid off. The kind of curls you just wanted to bury your hands in or pull at one to see if it would snap back into place like a spring.

Just when I started to wonder how soft they would feel if only I could get my body to move over there so I could run my fingers through them, Blaine seemed to regain some power over his motor functions. Of course he just had to use his returned abilities to run his right hand through his curls, blushing madly but obviously unable to look away from me.

I could practically see the exact second he became aware of the state of his hair in his expression. The blush disappeared and instead he paled drastically. Before I could say anything, he dashed back into the bathroom and left me standing in the doorway.

I assumed that it would be no use to wait for him in his bedroom (since he seemed to have forgotten to take clothes with him when he went into the bathroom in the first place, and I didn't really trust myself around a more than half-naked Blaine; especially not with those curls), so I headed down to make myself comfortable in the living-room.

Although I expected it – what with his panicked reaction when he'd realized his hair had for once been curly around me – I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when Blaine came down the stairs to join me, hair gelled down as usual. The look in his eyes told me not to mention any of that for now, though.

Seeing no other option, I resigned myself to another movie-marathon-afternoon like every other. Just as expected, Blaine's head claimed my chest as its rightful pillow in a matter of seconds after he'd sat down and we stayed like that until it was time to put in the next DVD.

But all the while, I didn't pay the least bit of attention to the movie. I probably couldn't even name it if you'd ask me to. I was way too busy planning the next step of operation 'gel-free'. Because now that I had seen how drop-dead gorgeous those curls looked on my beloved boyfriend (even when wet) there was no chance in hell I wouldn't get my hands on that beautiful hair of his.


	2. Chapter 2

_I know it's taken a bit longer than I intended to but here it finally is: Chapter 2. Read and enjoy :) I think I'll be able to post the next chap a bit quicker than this ;)_

**The Gel Wars**

**Movie Nights**

A few weeks passed before I went on with the next phase of my plan. After all, I wanted Blaine to feel safe. Things most certainly wouldn't work out the way I wanted them to if he assumed anything.

It was one of our movie nights. I thought it best to start slowly and what was there to fear when the only people who might see him were me and Dad (who really couldn't criticize anyone's hair since he himself didn't have any)? So I just went for it.

"Hi Blaine."

"Hey honey. Our movie night is still on, right?"

"Yeah, that's not why I called. Could you bring the popcorn? I thought we still had some but obviously, Finn got his hands on it."

"Sure, that's on my way, anyway. Anything else?"

"A few bottles of Diet Coke would be nice. Finn seems to have been on those, too. And could you leave the gel out for tonight?"

"Nice try, Kurt. How many bottles do you want?"

Damn it. That was too easy then. Might as well go with it.

"Three at the most. Why do you always insist on all that gel? Nobody's going to see you except for me, Dad and a few bored cashiers. Those won't care, Dad is in no position to complain about anyone's hair and I've already seen it curly, anyway. Besides, that stuff is most likely ruining your hair."

"Believe me, Kurt, there's not much to be ruined and even if it does I'd still prefer it this way. And the one time you saw it, the curls were wet. They're much worse when they're dry. I most certainly don't want you to see that."

"Oh come on, Blaine. It can't be all that bad."

"You have no idea. So, popcorn and three bottles of Diet Coke. Anything else?"

I sighed heavily. I recognized a lost cause when it practically jumped in my face.

"No, thanks. That would be all. See you later. And drive save!"

"I always do! See you soon."

Well, at least he didn't seem to hold a grudge against me for mentioning it. As long as I dropped the topic, that is.

Throughout our movie night I kept catching myself staring at Blaine's hair. Of course he noticed, too. He'd give me dirty looks until I'd avert my eyes but he didn't mention it with a single word.

XxxxxxxxxX

I didn't dare try anything for another few weeks. Blaine obviously waited for a comment on his hair gel consumption by now and I didn't want to give him the pleasure to ask again only to be turned down.

When I deemed the incident sufficiently long ago I tried again. This time with quite a different strategy.

I've got to admit that I wasn't very proud of myself when I got the idea but the need to see those curls in all their natural glory and run my hands through them grew stronger by the day. It got to the point where I had to grasp a pillow or something during make-out sessions to keep my hands from wandering to Blaine's hair. So basically it was an act of desperation and no one can reproach me for it.

Another afternoon spent lazily in Blaine's bedroom seemed the perfect opportunity.

"Blaine?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I asked this before but I wasn't really satisfied with your answer. Why are you so intent on drowning those beautiful curls in gel?"

"I don't drown them. I merely tame them."

"If you say so..."

"Let's look at this from a different point of view. Why do you want to see them so badly?"

I didn't know what to respond to that. Because I had an unhealthy obsession with your hair? Not something you want to tell your boyfriend of a few weeks. In the end I just shrugged noncommittally.

"I just want to. Do I need a reason?"

Blaine just raised an eyebrow but didn't inquire further.

"Well, I just don't like my hair very much. If I asked you to wash out all that hair spray right now, would you do it?"

"Sure, why not?"

I had to admit I wasn't very fond of that idea, either, but if Blaine really wanted me to, I would. I didn't hate my hair or anything, it just looked better when styled (simple logic, isn't it?).

Blaine seemed to consider his options, then nodded.

"Okay. Then I want you to do it. Now."

I merely shrugged once more before making my way to the bathroom. Any sign of hesitation would have marked me as a hypocrite, so I just went with it.

A few minutes later I returned to Blaine's bedroom, hair dripping wet and a towel in hand. For a minute, he didn't seem to know what to say. Obviously, he hadn't expected me to actually pull through with it. I wasn't sure if I should feel insulted or proud that I could still surprise him.

Another minute went by in silence. Blaine stared at my hair, apparently fascinated. I began to feel really stupid just standing in the doorway like that, so I went over to his bed and dropped down next to him, trying to ignore his gaze following me.

Evidently, ignoring his stares didn't make them go away. Therefore I decided on another strategy: I turned my head and stared back until Blaine started feeling uncomfortable, too and finally looked away from my hair – which was still dripping wet, I might add. I seemed to have forgotten the towel in my hand.

Remembering it at last, I did my best to get my hair dry in record time but probably only succeeded in making it look like I just had contact with a socket-outlet. Blaine just chuckled and the second I – finally, before I ruined my poor hair even more – put down the towel, his hands were in my hair.

Usually, running your hands through Kurt Hummel's hair is a death sentence. Even my Dad hadn't been allowed to touch it since I was seven. Although it was still possible to ruffle it despite the hair spray – contrary to Blaine's gel helmet: either you break your hand or stick to that glue-like goop he calls hair product and I call the stuff nightmares are made of – I didn't appreciate that action at all.

With Blaine that was different. His hands in my hair felt heavenly and I couldn't do anything but lean into his touch and practically purr at the contact. That elicited another chuckle from the personification of imperfect perfection that was currently sitting next to me and decided to be with me of all people for some abstract reason. I wasn't about to complain, especially not right now.

"I can see the appeal", he whispered into my ear and his warm breath against the sensitive skin there made me shiver. His hands kept running through my hair, pulling lightly every now and then, massaging my scalp on their way. I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from moaning like someone out of a very cheap porn.

But even the disgusting taste of my own blood in my mouth couldn't stop me from making quite embarrassing noises when Blaine pulled at my hair again, with both hands and a bit harder this time, while his talented mouth attached itself to my very sensitive neck and the rest of his body pressed into my side.

Blaine didn't seem to mind my moaning and my filter was gone at this point, anyway, so I just kept going. One of his hands disentangled itself from my hair and wandered down until it reached the hem of my shirt, under which it disappeared. The combination of Blaine stroking my chest underneath my shirt, his other hand pulling lightly at my hair to get better access to my neck where his mouth was still busy and us being pressed so close together they'd probably need surgery to separate us again could lead nowhere good. At least nowhere where I wanted to go right now. But it felt way too good to pull back.

That changed, however, when Blaine detached his mouth from my neck only to moan my name in my ear in the same needy fashion I'd probably already adopted half an hour ago. My head was filled with images of what I wanted to do to him – and have him do to me – and desire coursed through my body like a drug. I wanted him so bad it scared me. In fact, it scared me enough to finally pull back and try to catch my breath.

I didn't dare to look back at Blaine for quite some time. I just knew I wasn't ready for this and I wasn't sure if I wouldn't have crossed my own limits if we'd have kept going. I was a bit ashamed at myself at my lack of self-control and I didn't even want to know what Blaine thought of my incessant moaning now that we were no longer caught in the heat of the moment. He probably found it pathetic and slutty.

Before my plan to escape my death through embarrassment by climbing out the window and running for my life could take real shape, a hand on my shoulder pulled me back to reality. Hesitantly, I turned around only to be met with Blaine's glowing hazel eyes which currently wore quite the worried expression.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I know I crossed some lines there but-"

"It wasn't your fault, Blaine. If anything, we're both to blame. And we did stop in time."

"I don't think you're to blame for having incredibly soft hair. It's just so... touchable. I could run my hands through it for a whole day and it never would get boring. And God, do I love those breathy moans of yours when I pull at it."

Once again, Blaine's eyes were fixed on my hair and he didn't even seem to notice what he was saying anymore. That was probably a good thing because the shade of red I'd been turning couldn't be called attractive even in the broadest sense. And the shiver that went up my spine at his words wouldn't have helped our situation, either, if he hadn't been too fascinated with my hair to see it.

"So you get to be obsessed with my hair and touch it all you want when I'm not even allowed to see it without all the gel?", I asked, my voice shaking embarrassingly.

My boyfriend seemed to slowly return to planet Earth. It took him a few moments to catch up with my words. A smug grin spread on his face.

"Nice try."

With this he ran his left hand through my hair once more before he hopped off the bed and put in a DVD. His attention was focused on the movie by the time he sat back down on the bed next to me. Luckily for him, because the death glare I sent his way would probably have had him running for the hills.

My revenge would be terrifying enough to make Sue Sylvester pale in comparison.


	3. Chapter 3

_So, finally the third part :) Though Prom-A-Saurus sort of made my storyline (as far as it's existent) rather AU... Oh well, AU-ness never hurt a story ;) This one is a little more on the angsty side than I expected, but it just came out that way. Keep tuned for the next part if you care to read it ;) (Updates on my writing on my tumblr: _ http:/ galindaby. tumblr. com; _without the spaces, preferably ;) )_

**The Gel Wars**

**A little too insistent**

Another few weeks had me almost doubt my persuasion skills. I'd been pretty sure I'd perfected those almost ten years ago with my Dad, but obviously they weren't developed enough to get one Blaine Anderson to leave the hair gel for a day.

It began to feel truly frustrating. It was almost worse than watching Rachel get all the solos in Glee club. After all, Mr Shue wasn't my boyfriend and I didn't exactly grovel on my knees to give me one (though I might have been a little... insistent every now and again; it was Wicked, for goodness' sake!).

I knew things were pretty bad when I found myself sitting on my bed, staring at a pair of Marc Jacobs boots in a catalog, wondering whether I shouldn't use the money to bribe every shop owner in the area to not sell Blaine any hair gel instead. My boyfriend's curls had become more important than designer shoes. I really needed to do something about that. Tout de suite.

Once again – not proud to admit that – I took drastic measures in my desperation. If asking and begging didn't help the matter, than it was time to take this from a different angle. I knew this would make me look like queen bitch, but I just couldn't bring myself to care anymore. I obviously suffered from a very bad case of hair obsession and I was willing to go all out to get my hands into those luscious curls.

The following Friday – date night – I decided to put my plan into action. If that one didn't work, I was truly at a loss for what would. Taking a deep breath – I mean, I can be a bitch at times but usually my boyfriend wasn't on the receiving end of that side of me – I opened the door and crossed my arms, effectively blocking his way in.

For a second, I almost gave in and let it go. Blaine looked positively delicious in that shirt and those jeans were rather tight... Not to mention that the bow tie made the whole outfit that much hotter for some reason. It wasn't until my eyes fell upon the ridiculous amount of gel in his hair that I snapped out of my trance and regained some control over my body. I quickly decided that it was healthier for my resolution to keep my mind on the fact that he had more product in his hair than Mr. Shue and I combined on our worst days rather than on his big, hopeful eyes.

"Hey, babe." His grin could have melted at least half of the Antarctic and it made me feel even guiltier for what I was about to do. But if I ever wanted to know what these gorgeous curls would feel like tangled between my fingers, I had to pull through with it regardless.

He finally seemed to notice my stance and his smile dropped.

"Is something wrong? I know that posture. What did I do this time?"

"You did nothing. Or more like, it's something that you didn't do." My gaze inadvertently wandered to his hair and he seemed to catch on.

"This is not about my hair again, is it? Because I told you, Kurt, there is a reason I use that much gel. It looks like something out of a horror movie if I don't and you really don't want to see that, believe me."

"I'd rather decide if it's really that bad for myself."

"Kurt, now you're just being stubborn. Come on, don't make such a big deal out of it. It's just hair. It never bothered you before. Why does it now?"

What could I respond to that? Because I recently developed a mad obsession with your hair while we were making out? I doubted that confession would go down to well. Especially when the conversation leading up to it was led on my doorstep.

"Well, it does now. You get to do whatever you like with my hair, too. And you know how particular I am when it comes to who gets to touch my hair."

"I know and believe me, I feel honored that you even let me run my hands through it. But your hair is kind of perfect whereas mine resembles a run over racoon without the gel."

"And what if I think your hair is kind of perfect, too?"

The reluctant look in Blaine's eyes softened a bit at my words.

"I doubt that you would think so. Why don't we drop the matter for today? If we keep standing here we're not going to get a table at Breadstix."

"We're not going to Breadstix today. I'd much rather stay here. On the condition that you wash out that horrible gel."

Oh joy, the reluctant look is back again.

"Kurt, you know how I feel about my hair. Why do you have to force this? Can't we just leave it at that and have dinner?"

"Sorry, honey, but I'm not going to budge tonight. Either the gel goes or we don't go."

Now it was Blaine's turn to cross his arms. Not to the advantage of my poor brain that brought out his very well-defined biceps...

"Kurt, you're being ridiculous. Do you really want to cancel a date just because I refuse to wash out the gel?"

That brought me back from my Blaine's-delicious-muscles- induced trance rather effectively.

"If you want to put it that way. As I said, I'm not going to back down on that one. How much trouble can it be to just wash it out? It's not like anyone aside from me is going to see you. And I can assure you that I won't find it hideous."

Blaine just shook his head.

"Why do you insist so much? I already told you that I'm not comfortable with that."

"Dear God, Blaine. A relationship is not always comfortable. Do you think I was feeling comfortable when you tried to talk to me about sex before we even became a couple? It was necessary though, and I can see that now. I'm asking you to show me a part of you that you don't like and you obviously don't trust me with that. I mean, it's your hair, Blaine, I'm not asking you to strip right here on my doorstep."

"Of course I trust you. There's just no way you could possibly find that appealing and I don't want you to see me like that."

"Oh, come on. If you really trust me that much, how bad can it be? It's not like I'm going to break up with you over your hair. And even if it were as horrible as you seem to insist, do you really believe I would tell you so to your face? I know I have quite a bitchy attitude from time to time, but I hope that you don't think I would do that to you."

"Usually I'd say no, but you do realize that you're making a scene in front of your house because of my hair right now, right?"

Oh well, if he wanted to play it that way.

"So what if I am? It's not like I'm asking the impossible, Blaine. You asked me to do the exact same thing and I did, didn't I? So what's your problem with it? Because that 'my hair looks horrible without gel'-excuse starts getting old."

For a minute it looked like he was going to say something in response but then he just turned around and called over his shoulder.

"Fine, if you don't want to go out, then I'll just drive back home. Since your weird fixation with my hair gel seems to be more important than my feelings or our relationship."

Before I could say anything, he closed the door of his car with a resounding slam and backed out of our driveway. I stood frozen in the doorway for what felt like forever before I finally remembered how to move and started trudging back to my room, ignoring my father asking me what was going on from the living-room.

I just couldn't believe that we just had our first fight. Over Blaine's exaggerated use of hair gel, of all things. He'd been right with calling it an obsession. Just that I wasn't obsessed with his stupid hair product, but more with the beautiful curls underneath it.

Still, what I'd said to him had been the truth. As much as I was obsessed with the idea of being able to run my hands through his hair, the fact that he didn't trust me enough to accept him like he was hurt far more than I wanted to think about. Of course I cared about his feelings. Of course I cared about our relationship. In fact, I cared so much about both of those things that it scared me, even more than this overwhelming desire I'd only ever felt around Blaine. There wasn't much else in this world that took up basically all my thoughts the way Blaine did.

Sadly, none of that changed the fact that we'd just had our first fight since we became a couple. Over Blaine's _hair gel_. Obviously, I'd been right declaring war on that awful stuff.

He was mad at me and I needed to make things right as soon as possible. Maybe I did exaggerate a bit by canceling a whole date in order to get him to forgo the gel for one night, but was that really a reason to doubt my whole involvement in our relationship? That was a bit harsh. And a low blow. I mean, who had needed months of trying to date about everyone else on the planet before even getting the idea that I was available? Oh my Gosh, what if Blaine had only started dating me because I'd been about the only person he hadn't tried hitting on so far? What if he only stuck around because he thought it'd be the easiest option? And now I'd made things complicated over stupid hair gel and he would surely leave me because it wasn't so easy anymore and that was the only reason he got together with me in the first place...

Luckily, my phone chose this moment to interrupt my rather disturbing train of thought. It was a message from Blaine.

_I'm sorry._

Hoping that he'd either pulled over to text me or that I'd spent much longer sitting on my bed thinking than I originally thought and he was already home, I called him without a second thought.

"Kurt?"

"Blaine? Blaine, God, I'm so sorry. I won't do anything like that again, I promise. Please just don't break up with me, I-"

"Kurt! Why would I break up with you? If anything, you should break up with me. You've been right. I've been so scared of what you would think of my hair when it's gel-free that I constantly hide that part of me from you and it totally looks like I don't trust you, but I do, please believe me-"

"Blaine, it's okay. I shouldn't have kept on insisting. You told me you were uncomfortable with that."

"I love you."

He sounded a bit hesitant, as if he didn't expect me to respond.

"I love you, too. So much. Please, let's not fight over something as stupid as this ever again. Or over anything really. I hated standing there and watching you drive away, so angry with me."

"I wasn't really all that mad at you. More at myself. You had a point and I basically just stormed off. You looked so sad standing there in the doorway when I drove off. I regretted it almost instantly."

"Me too. Sorry I pushed you so hard. You know how I can get when I have my mind set on something."

Blaine's laughter made my heart feel so much lighter, even though it sounded a bit tinny through the phone.

"I know. I'm not sure I should, but I think it's rather adorable that you're so set on my hair of all things. Other people might have focused my body."

"Oh, believe me, I'm very focused on your body."

The second I realized I'd actually said that out loud, I seriously considered just ending the call. I was just glad that Blaine couldn't see my deep red face through the phone.

"Kurt."

The way he breathed my name into the speaker sent shivers down my spine. I gripped the blanket I was currently sitting on like it was a lifeline, trying to find the embarrassment I had felt only seconds ago, but it had disappeared the moment Blaine's voice had taken on that breathy, hoarse quality.

"Blaine."

I was sure my voice sounded much more needy and considerably less sexy, but I just couldn't help the way I practically whined his name in response. Judging by the way Blaine's breathing on the other end of the line sped up, he didn't mind.

"Please, next time you say something like that, make sure that we're alone. In a room. Together."

Another violent shiver raced up my spine and I might or might not have accidentally moaned into the speaker at the images that made an appearance in my mind at that.

"Shit, Kurt." There was movement and a sort of rustling noise on Blaine's end of the line, before he seemed to find his voice again, even hoarser than before. "I really don't think I want to be on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere at this time of night when we have phone sex for the first time."

Of course that comment had me blushing again and the embarrassment returned with a vengeance.

"I- We-," I stuttered, unable to find a single coherent thought in my head at the very idea. Immediately, my unhelpful mind created a scenario that went quite differently from the actual evening and my imagination provided me with a very explicit idea of what it would feel like to run my hands through Blaine's freed haired while he worshiped my body with those heavenly lips...

Needless to say, another needy, high-pitched moan was all my vocal chords were able to produce.

Blaine's response was a low growl that made my skin crawl with desire and I thought I heard skin shifting on denim – which led to my mind painting another rather impressive and detailed picture of Blaine sitting in his car on some deserted road, palming himself through his jeans. Since at this point of our 'conversation' all I seemed to be able to do was keeping a death grip on my blanket and moaning into the speaker, I did just that. Another curse followed from Blaine's end.

All of a sudden, the sounds on Blaine's side changed and the voice that came through the speaker only held the slightest traces of hoarseness.

"Shit. Sorry, Kurt, but someone just drove by and I really should be home by now..."

Tightening my grip on the poor abused blanket, I took a deep, calming breath, willing my raging hard-on and disobedient teenage hormones to the back of my mind. I only spoke when I was sure I'd gained back at least some sort of control over my own voice.

"That's okay. Another night?"

"Definitely another night. I love you. So much. We're good, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are. I love you, too. Drive safe."

"I will. How about we have another movie marathon tomorrow? We can still go to Breadstix next Friday. I just feel more like having alone time with you right now. Even though your Dad will probably barge in every five minutes."

Oh gosh. I forgot all about Dad. My door wasn't locked – it never was – and Dad was worried about me because of the canceled date and my horrible mood and he could have walked in any time- Urgh. The next time we'd have to plan that a little more carefully... Wait.

Now my brain was already planning phone sex sessions with Blaine? Santana would be proud of me.

"Sounds great. Can you come over at three?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow. I love you, Kurt."

"Love you too, Blaine. See you."

I ended the call while simultaneously jumping off my bed and racing in the direction of the bathroom to take a very cold shower before my Dad could get the idea to look after me. Though that had most certainly been an acceptable end to our first fight, I still hadn't seen Blaine's hair gel-free. And we obviously had some issues on both sides that needed to be talked about. Some other time, though. For now I was fine with the way things were.


End file.
